


Touch

by hopelocklet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Curses, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, M/M, Potions Master Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelocklet/pseuds/hopelocklet
Summary: Draco has been cursed; he can't feel anything, like his nerves have died. Harry is assigned to his case and Draco makes a startling realization: he can feel Harry. Just Harry.





	1. September 16th

**Author's Note:**

> Updates irregular, sorry  
> the chapters are short, sorry  
> but still! hope you enjoy :)

 

When Harry returns to his office from his lunch break on a delightfully sunny Thursday afternoon, he does not expect to find Draco Malfoy sitting at his desk waiting for him.

“Draco?” Harry asks uncertainly. 

The tall blond has settled comfortably in Harry’s leather high back chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms sprawled over the chair’s armrests. He doesn’t even deign to look in Harry’s direction, eyes fixed instead on the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the office.

“Potter,” Draco replies listlessly. “Your clock is fourteen seconds behind.”

Harry’s face contorts in confusion. “Okay,” he says slowly, tentatively. “Sorry about that.”

Draco rolls his eyes and finally turns to Harry. “You don’t have to be sorry about it, Potter. But you should probably fix it.”

Harry shrugs, still perplexed by the blond’s presence. “It’s only fourteen seconds.”

“A lot can happen in fourteen seconds,” Draco remarks with a smirk.

“What are you doing here, Draco?” Harry finally asks.

Draco raises his eyebrows. “Oh, so  _ now _ you’re not happy to see me. I thought my presence- What were the words you used? Oh, yes. ‘Lights up your entire day.’ Isn’t that what you said, Potter?”

Harry grits his teeth as he responds, “That was a long time ago.”

Draco sighs and agrees, “Yes, seems like a thousand years have passed. I hope you’re not still upset about that whole mess.”

Harry forces his expression to relax. “Don’t worry, Draco. I’ve long since gotten over it.”

Suddenly Draco smiles at Harry. Harry wishes Draco wouldn’t do that. It’s so much easier to keep himself from loving Draco when the blond is all sneers and condescending remarks. 

“I’m glad. We can be friends again, then,” Draco says. “How are things, Potter?”

Harry sighs in grudging acceptance that Draco is sticking around and hangs his coat on the hook of office door. “Things have been fine, lately. Work is slow, but I’ve been busy helping Hermione plan Luna and Ginny’s engagement party.”

“That’s right. Luna showed me her ring when we went out for lunch on Monday.”

“You’re still close with Luna?” Harry is surprised, Luna never mentions Draco to him.

“Of course. We blondes have to stick together.”

Harry bites back a smile, not wanting to give Draco the satisfaction of knowing that Harry is enjoying talking to him. “Right. I’ll try to remember to put you on the guest list for the party.”

“Really? You don’t have to do that, Potter.” Draco is beaming now, apparently very pleased to be invited.

“It’s not a big deal. Luna would probably want you there.” Harry finally allows himself to smile back at Draco. He leans against his desk as he says, “So how have you been, Draco?”   
Draco’s smile falters slightly and he says casually, “Not too good ever since I was hit with the curse.” 

Harry stops smiling altogether. “Curse?”

“I’m sorry to say that I haven’t just dropped by to make small talk, Potter. Apparently you’re the Auror assigned to my case.”

Harry stares disbelievingly at the blond. He should’ve known, really. Draco would never reach out to Harry to repair their friendship after what happened five months ago.

“Wait, you mean  _ you’re _ the victim of a hate crime that I’m meeting with today?” Harry questions dubiously. Draco simply nods and lifts his hand in order to examine his fingernails. “I thought it would be a werewolf, or a--”

“A Muggleborn, yes. But as it so happens, this time the Death Eater is the victim and not the perpetrator.” 

“I am perfectly aware that there are hate crimes against  _ ex- _ Death Eaters,” Harry says forcefully. Draco glares at him. “Give me my chair back, Draco. I’ll need to sit and take down notes.”

Draco stands, and the action is shaky and sloppy, so unlike the graceful way Draco usually carries himself. Harry figures it’s a side effect of the curse and transfigures a stool on the opposite side of the desk into a chair for him. Draco smiles gratefully and carefully sets himself down on the plush armchair. Harry watches him for a second, concerned, then opens the case file.

“Okay, can you explain to me what happened?” Harry prompts, his Self-Inking Quill poised to write.

“I told everything to the Auror from earlier,” Draco points out, his tone bored.

Harry waves his hand in dismissal. “Yeah, but that was Silberman, and he’s not the best at note taking.”

“Fine. On Monday, about seven in the morning I’d say, I was in Knockturn Alley, delivering my potions to some shops. I had just left E.L.M. and Wizards Undertakers and Embalmers, and was making my way to Markus Scarrs Inedible Tattoos when a wizard in dark robes came up to me and asked me if I was Draco Malfoy.”

“Can you describe the wizard?”

“Yes. He had a hood on, but I think he had brown hair. Blue eyes, maybe? I wasn’t really paying attention. But he definitely couldn’t have been older than thirty. I’d’ve pegged him at twenty five or twenty six.”

“What did you say when he asked you if you were Draco Malfoy?”

“Obviously, I knew not to tell him the truth. I can’t just go around proclaiming myself as a known Death Eater to strangers. That would be idiotic.”

“What happened after you denied your identity?”   
“He didn’t believe me. He started yelling, calling me a liar and a murderer. I wasn’t too keen on sticking around after that, so I started running to the nearest Apparition point. I didn’t make it on time and his curse hit me just before I Apparated.”

“Where did you go?”

“St. Mungo’s. They kept me there for about an hour and I talked to an Auror there. The mediwitches sent me to a Curse-Breaker. The Curse-Breaker tried to fix me for hours, but in the end he determined that it was an unknown curse.”

“Which means that in order to break it, we have to find the wizard who cursed you.”

“We? I think you mean  _ you  _ have to find the wizard. It’s your job, after all.”

“Well, I’m going to need you to help me a little,” Harry says sternly. “First of all, I need your memory of the attack.”

Draco, ever one to be prepared, pulls a vial out of a pocket in his robes. He hands it to Harry. 

“Oh, good,” Harry says. “This will help.”

Draco nods absentmindedly and stares at a picture on Harry’s desk. The photo is from  _ that night _ , five months ago at Ron and Hermione’s wedding. In the photo, Ron and Hermione are cutting their wedding cake with sweet, blissful smiles plastered on their faces. Harry, Ginny, and Bill can be seen in the background. Both Bill and Ginny are laughing as photo-Ron wipes frosting on photo-Hermione’s cheek, but Harry’s gaze is fixed on something, or rather, someone, in the distance. Draco tilts his head as he studies the expression on photo-Harry’s face.

“Draco? Are you listening to me?”

“What?” Draco says. He blinks rapidly, like he’s awakening from a trance.

“I asked you what the curse did.”

“Sorry?” Draco’s brow furls in confusion.

“What exactly did the curse do to you? The report from St. Mungo’s just says ‘loss of feeling’. What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what it says. I can’t feel anything,” Draco explains soberly. His eyes return to the picture from Ron and Hermione’s wedding. 

Frustrated, Harry removes the picture from his desk and shoves it into one of his drawers. The drawer slams shut with a resonant thud. “I don’t understand,” Harry says, exasperated by Draco’s apathy.

Draco smiles sadly at Harry. “Of course you don’t. You always feel too much. I bet you can’t even imagine what it’s like to be numb, inside and out. The curse stopped me from feeling anything, Potter. It’s that simple. I cannot feel pain, or pleasure, or heat, or cold. I can’t feel this chair I’m sitting in or the ground beneath my feet. I’ve completely lost my sense of touch.” 

Harry’s eyes widen as he begins to comprehend. “But... why? Why would someone do that to you?” 

Draco looks down at his shoes, not able to stand the pity in Harry’s expression, in his voice. “I suppose they believe that I don’t deserve to feel.”

“Fuck that. They’re crazy. They don’t know you. You’re not who you used to be. You’re- you’re better now.” Harry speaks assertively; his anger seems to increase with every word. “You don’t deserve this,” Harry tells Draco, voice much softer and almost gentle. 

Draco snorts. “That’s a lie.”   
“How are you so calm about this?” Harry insists. 

“Because, honestly, I expected this. I told you this would happen,  _ I told you  _ and you didn’t listen!” Draco says, raising his voice and finally abandoning his tone of indifference. 

“That’s not what you said!” Harry accuses. “You said that you were scared that this  _ might _ happen,  _ if  _ we were together!”   
“No! I knew, I knew that this would definitely happen if we were together. But I guess people hate me whether or not I’m dating the Wizarding World’s savior. So bully for you, Potter! You were right, we should’ve just gone public, because I was going to be attacked either way!” Draco shouts. He suddenly stands up. He wobbles on his feet for a moment, and Harry stands as well, moving close to the blond in case he might fall. “I’m fine, Potter. Let go,” Draco seethes venomously when Harry puts a steadying hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“You’re clearly not fine, Draco,” Harry says, but he withdraws. 

“Wait! Wait!” Draco says frantically. He looks like he’s been struck by lightning. “Do that again, put your hand back!”

“What the hell, Drac-” Harry is interrupted by Draco grabbing Harry’s hands and yanking Harry closer to him.

Draco is now breathing heavily, staring at his and Harry’s hands. He runs his fingers over Harry’s palms, then the backs of Harry’s hands, then Harry’s fingers. Draco looks a bit like he might cry. He then brings Harry’s hands to his face and lets out a choked sob. 

“Harry…” Draco whispers. “I can- I can feel you. I can feel you. Your hands.” Draco lets go of Harry’s hands, leaving them on his face, and proceeds to touch Harry’s face. He traces Harry’s nose, eyebrows, chin, and lips before pushing his hands into Harry’s tangled hair. “Your face, your hair, I can feel it.”

Harry gasps as he realizes what’s happening. “You can feel? I don’t get it, did the curse break?”

“No,” Draco says with a shake of his head. He closes his eyes and further entangles his fingers in Harry’s hair. “Just you. I can only feel you.”

“Why?” Harry says shakily. His voice is hoarse. 

Draco shouldn’t be touching him like this, and he shouldn’t be touching Draco either. The last time they touched, it ended badly, to say the least. Still, Draco’s smooth skin feels so good under his fingers, and he can’t resist brushing his thumb across Draco’s mouth. Draco’s breath catches and he brings Harry even closer, so that their bodies are flush against each other. Harry should pull away now, because Draco is obviously just in shock from being able to feel something, and his touch has nothing to do with wanting to touch Harry himself. But how is Harry supposed to let go of Draco when he rests his forehead against Harry’s and slides his hands down the back of Harry’s neck. 

“Draco, we can’t,” Harry protests, but he sounds ambivalent.

Draco silences Harry by pressing one finger against Harry’s lips.

“Just give me this. A moment of feeling,” Draco beseeches. 

Draco’s words make Harry’s knees weak and his hands tremble. Regardless, Harry answers, “Okay.”

Draco sighs, maybe in relief, and his hands skate down Harry’s back to rest on his waist. When Harry shudders in reaction, Draco can feel it. A lone tear streams down Draco’s cheek and hits Harry’s hand. Harry pretends not to notice. 

“ _ Je ne peux pas te laisser partir _ ,” Draco says softly.

“What does that mean?” 

“I can’t let you go.” Draco exhales deeply against Harry’s thumb and opens his eyes. His eyes are bright, so bright and clear, but also so sad. Harry instantly remembers where those words are from.

“Don’t,” Harry warns, and he takes a step back. His hands fall from their place on Draco’s face.

Draco doesn’t object. He simply nods and withdraws his hands as well. This time when Draco stumbles, Harry doesn’t try to help.

“I should go. Sorry about all this, Potter. I’ll ask to have my case deferred to a different Auror,” Draco says as he turns to the door. 

“No,” Harry says commandingly, and Draco pauses. “Don’t do that. I mean, they’ll assign your case to Silberman instead, and Silberman’s bloody awful.” Draco turns around and stares at Harry like he’s insane, so Harry panics and adds, “Also, I meant it when I said you’re invited to Ginny and Luna’s party. It’s Saturday at eight. Uh, it’s at my place. Do you remember it?” Harry regrets the question as soon as it comes out of his mouth. Any answer won’t be good.

“Not likely to forget it,” Draco deadpans before walking out the door.


	2. Friendship and Forks

**Saturday, September 18th, 2004**

Draco is two hours late to Luna and Ginny’s party. Harry doesn’t know if that constitutes as being fashionably late, or if it’s just rude. Naturally, Luna is thrilled when Draco arrives, despite his lateness.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, Draco,” Luna says, surprised, but happy. 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Draco responds with a grin. He gives Luna a hug and catches Harry’s eye from over her shoulder. Harry flushes, realizing he’s been caught staring, and looks away.

But Harry can’t escape Draco just by looking away. After offering Luna an engagement gift, Draco heads straight for Harry.

“Potter,” Draco greets him. 

Harry keeps his eyes directed toward the ground as he replies, “Draco. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.”

“Neither was I,” Draco admits, shifting on his feet restlessly. 

Harry watches his feet move and suddenly notices something. Draco’s trousers are denim. Draco is wearing Muggle jeans.  _ Shit,  _ Harry thinks, because Draco in Muggle clothes has always been a weakness of his. Harry stares resolutely at the hardwood floor instead. 

“Come on, Potter. Are you really not going to look at me? I’m sorry about the other day, okay? I was just dumbstruck from being able to feel something. We can forget it ever happened.” 

Reluctantly, Harry raises his head to look at Draco. The blond is wearing a plain black Muggle t-shirt to go with his jeans. The fabric hugs his body and shows off his muscles spectacularly. The short sleeves of the shirt leave Draco’s faded, tattoo-covered Dark Mark out in the open for everyone to see. Harry blushes and tries not to remember the way he kissed those very same tattoos, months ago, in the room just upstairs.

“It’s not- I mean, I’m not, um, angry about the other day, really. So, you know, no need to apologize,” Harry stammers. He tears his gaze from Draco’s forearm and locks eyes with Draco.

“Good,” Draco says, and his even tone makes Harry envy Draco’s seemingly perpetual nonchalance.

“Well, food and drinks are in the kitchen if you want any. I think that a bunch of people are playing a drinking game in the sitting room,” Harry informs the blond. “Oh, and I've been meaning to owl you. I've made some progress on your case.” 

This catches Draco's attention. He raises his eyebrows. “What kind of progress?”

“How about we meet on Monday to discuss it. Does eleven work for you?” 

“That's fine,” Draco says.

“Great. You know where my office is.”

Draco nods. Harry smiles before turning to join his friends in the sitting room, completely unaware that Draco is watching him walk away.

 

**Monday, September 20th, 2004**

“So what you’re saying is that the progress you’ve made is practically no progress at all,” Draco summarizes when Harry finishes telling him about what he’s learned since last Thursday.

Harry rolls his eyes. “No, I’m saying that there’s still a lot of work to do.”

Draco narrows his eyes and studies Harry with a skeptical expression. “You’ve made such little progress that I’m forced to believe you wanted to meet with me for an ulterior motive.”

Harry chuckles disbelievingly. “Excuse me?”   
“You heard me. Your update took less than ten minutes. You could’ve just owled, or even flooed.” Draco pauses to smile mischievously. “I think you wanted to meet in person because you’ve missed me.”

“What?” Harry says incredulously, though his cheeks start to turn a light shade of pink.

Draco raises a challenging eyebrow. “It’s okay to admit it, Potter. We’re being friendly to each other now, remember?”

“If I had missed you, I would’ve invited you to lunch, or a Quidditch match, not to my office,” Harry says defensively.

“It’s too cloudy for a Quidditch match, but I could be up for lunch.”

Harry’s face contorts in confusion. “What? I wasn’t actually asking if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

“That’s too bad, because I do,” Draco says with a shrug. Harry fumbles for words and Draco smiles at the sight. “Know any good restaurants, Potter?”

“I can’t. I mean, I have work, and my lunch break isn’t until noon.”

“Oh. Then work. I can watch and wait patiently for you to be done.”

“I can’t work with you watching me,” Harry says as if it should be obvious.

Draco smiles gleefully at Harry’s words. “Why not? Do I distract you?”

“Enough. Draco, stop.” Harry’s tone is suddenly serious. Draco’s smile fades and Harry continues, “It was only five months ago that you said you couldn’t be seen in public with me. You were  _ afraid _ of going in public with me. You thought someone would  _ attack  _ you-”

“Someone has already attacked me. I don’t care anymore. Someone could  _ Crucio _ me, or stab me, or fucking  _ Sectumsempra _ me and I wouldn’t be able to feel it. So it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m not afraid anymore,” Draco explains.

“So that’s it? You get cursed and now you want to date and be the perfect little happy couple? After what happened? After the things we said to each other?” Harry is angry. It shows in the way he grips his desk with both his hands.

“No, Merlin no. I’m not trying to erase the past, okay? I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for leaving. Listen, could we maybe try being just friends again? Please, Harry?” Draco pleads.

Harry sighs and removes his hands from his desk. “It will never be like before.”

Draco doesn’t back down even now. He stares into Harry’s eyes determinedly, like he’s challenging the other man. “Maybe it will be better than before. Who knows? Give it a shot, Potter. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Really? Because I regret practically every interaction I’ve had with you in my life.”

“Practically every interaction? What’s the exception?” 

Harry glares, but after a moment it becomes clear to him that Draco didn’t mean to be cruel, he’s just genuinely curious. “When I cursed you at the end of Fourth Year,” Harry lies.

Draco smirks. “Well, I would hope that you don’t regret that. I was being a little shit and I deserved it. In fact, I should probably thank you for cursing me and thus stopping me from making a bigger fool of myself than I already had. So, thank you, Potter.”

Harry represses a smile and shakes his head. “You’re the most ridiculous person on the planet.”

“That’s quite an accomplishment, I’d say. Well done, Draco,” Draco says, his easy, teasing smile back in place on his face. “Come to lunch with me, Potter, and I can continue entertaining you with my ridiculousness. I hear there’s a new diner on Porce Lane.” Harry didn’t appear totally averse to the idea, but he was still reluctant, so Draco adds, “Feel free to curse me again if I make a prat of myself.”   
“You always make a prat of yourself,” Harry points out. 

Draco shrugs. “Then you’re guaranteed a chance to curse me.”

“Not that it would be any fun, since you can’t feel anything anyway.” Harry meant it as a joke, but when he sees Draco’s expression darken, he immediately realizes how terrible those words must’ve sounded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh at what happened to you. I’m sorry, Draco. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine. But you’re wrong, you know. There is one thing I can feel. It’s you.”

“Oh. I haven’t looked into that. It’s kind of odd, so I probably should, shouldn’t I?”

“No. I don’t want you to.”

“Well, we can’t just ignore-”

“Yes, we can. Don’t touch me and we’ll both eventually forget about it.”

“Draco,” Harry says, pity and a touch of something else, maybe desperation, in his voice. 

Draco rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, Potter. Let’s not worry about it. Let’s get lunch and pretend like we’re two normal guys and not fucked up bastards.”

Harry frowns, but he gives in, “Okay. But don’t try to pay for me.”   
Draco laughs. “Why would I try to pay for you? You order half the food on the menu. The expensive half, I might add. I mean, I used to think my mother liked expensive food until you spent over two thousand galleons at that restaurant on Centric Alley.”

“That was a special occasion,” Harry says, trying not to let unbidden memories of the night they went to that restaurant together into his head. He fails, and an image of Draco sitting across the table from him, congratulating him on his promotion with a wide smile, appear in Harry’s mind. Harry sighs. 

“Having a meal with me is always a special occasion, Potter. People write sonnets about the way I fold my napkin and entire operas about how I lift my fork.”

Harry snorts. “But they refrain from waxing poetic about the moans you make after you take a bite? What a shame.”

“I do not moan after I take a bite,” Draco says indignantly.

“You do. Every time. The waitresses always stared at us. They probably thought I was feeling you up under the table.”

“Maybe they were staring because you’re  _ the  _ Harry Potter and I’m a Death Eater.”

“No, it was definitely the moaning thing.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Well I promise not to moan today. Let’s just go.”

Harry hesitates a second more before standing up. “Okay, Malfoy. Let’s go.”

Draco smiles, and Harry has to look away so he can mentally remind himself that no, he’s not going to fall in love with Draco again. They’re just going to be friends. It will make working on Draco’s case easier, and he’ll stop missing Draco so much. Not that he’s been missing Draco  _ a ton _ , Harry tells himself, just enough that it hurts.

“Potter? You alright?” Draco asks, voice lined with worry.

Harry shakes his head free of his thoughts and smiles reassuringly. “Yeah. Just thinking of what I’ll name my opera about your fork-lifting abilities.”   
“The Un-fork-ettable Draco Malfoy?” Draco suggests.

Harry laughs. “I thought Slytherins were supposed to be witty, and yet here you are making puns like a Hufflepuff.”

“Fork you, Potter.”


End file.
